


Release

by ziggbot



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Drinking, Edgeplay, M/M, Male Homosexuality, One Shot, Rough Sex, Smoking, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziggbot/pseuds/ziggbot
Summary: (Takes place during s02e01) After several frustrations, including Nina's infection, Lucy's rejection, and George's infidelity, Mitchell seeks out Ivan for a confrontational form of release.
Relationships: Ivan/John Mitchell
Kudos: 4





	Release

// **songs** :: terrible thing (AG), talk (hozier)

He was on the last cigarette left in his tin after he'd chain-smoked the rest on his walk. Not even the continuous nicotine or afternoon air could clear his head of the cloudy mixed emotions the day had left him with. The most recent of which had been caused by the soft and awkwardly polite rejection of his feelings by Lucy. He was a little glad for it. If they had moved as fast as he wanted, he may well have just ended up with another situation akin to Lauren. Relationships weren't his strong suit. They never would be.

Beyond that was the lingering guilt and shame caused by Nina's words to him. They still rang so loudly in his mind. _“You know what I think? I think this is about your conscious. You encouraged me and George. You told him to live a life. You loaded a gun and you fired it into a crowd, and...”_ She was right. Utterly and horribly right. He'd only wanted a better life for George, and in doing so, he'd condemned another person to share in his misery. He'd doomed George into doing the very thing he'd always been so dreadfully afraid of.

But right now, he didn't care nearly as much about George's feelings, compared to the woman he'd just _cheated_ on. Oh, when that bastard walked into the house, he reeked of Daisy's scent. He had the nerve to ask anything of Nina when he hadn't even bothered to clean himself up with some wet wipes to mask the smell of another woman's cum all over him. Part of him hoped Nina didn't catch the scent, or grasp what it meant. Part of him hoped she _did_ , just so she could give George a good kick in the teeth as payback. Another part told him this was all just more of his stupid emotional projection, because he was the one to blame.

Without him, there would have been no need to kill Herrick, no reason for Ivan and Daisy to have taken such an interest in George. No reason for Nina to have gotten involved or even ever found out about their world. It all circled back around to _him_.

He stomped out the butt of the cigarette on the sidewalk, squinting in discomfort at the sunlight reflecting off the concrete. The familiar, yet odd sensation of vampiric presence drew his gaze toward the hotel he'd stopped next to. It was one of the higher end luxury hotels, but more importantly, it was a historical one. Ivan stayed almost exclusively at the most historical buildings out of preference for the old-fashioned. 'Better room design' he'd always said. Well, if they were here, he could at least be proactive with his frustrations.

He was able to sneak a look at the guest listings, and found Ivan and Daisy's usual aliases. A penthouse suite. Of course. Ritzy bastard. He took the elevator up and found their door. With a couple of loud knocking thumps, he waited for an answer.

The door opened, revealing Ivan's face. He looked only mildly surprised for a fraction of a second, then smugly pleased. “Well now, what a pleasure.”

“We need to talk.” Mitchell fixed his eyes squarely on Ivan's.

“Evidently,” Ivan responded. He glanced down either end of the hallway, then stepped back and to the side in silent invitation. Given the permission, Mitchell entered. Ivan hooked the do not disturb placard on the outer handle before closing the door. “Care for a drink? Room service just stopped by with a bottle of 1990 Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Where's Daisy?” Mitchell questioned, initially side-stepping the offer.

Ivan pursed his lips and walked past him to the compact bar in the corner of the room. “She's out handling some personal affairs.” He held up the bottle of wine in a wordless repetition of his question. Mitchell sighed through his nose and nodded. Smiling, Ivan poured two glasses of the deep red wine.

“This needs to _end_ , Ivan.” Mitchell looked past the other vampire, taking in the view from the luxury room. “You need to tell Daisy to leave George alone.”

Ivan scoffed as he handed one of the glasses over. “I don't think so. I don't tell Daisy to do anything. What would be the fun in that?” He took a trained sip from his own wine. “It makes no difference if her choices please you.”

His lips tensely pressed closed, Mitchell ran his tongue over his teeth in restrained frustration. “Yeah? Well, you don't seem too pleased with her choices, either.”

“Oh, it's not about her fucking other men,” Ivan clarified with a shrug. “There's nothing new about that. You know from experience. It's only about her rather... _peculiar_ tastes, at the moment.” Mitchell had a feeling he knew what Ivan was fixated on about it, and listened while drinking his wine. “Out of all the cock she could have ridden, she chose a _werewolf's_.” Ivan sneered just slightly. “I can't say I'm surprised, but I hated the smell it left on her afterwards, to be honest with you.”

“Why did she have to go after _him_?” Mitchell furrowed his brow with bristling agitation. “Why did he have to fuck her?” He was reacted to with only Ivan taking another swig of wine. He postured himself and gripped the glass in his hands tight. “Both of you... You just like to stir the pot.”

“You almost sound _jealous_ , Mitchell.” The elder vampire gave an amused smirk behind his sipping. “Did _you_ want Daisy?”

He cast his eyes to look away at the wall. “You know I don't.”

Ivan's eyes began to trace over Mitchell, observing his body language as he took a few steps to close the distance between them. “I suppose I do. Why is it that you're here, really?”

Mitchell stood his ground firm, matching Ivan's gaze again. “I'm helping my friend.”

“Bullshit,” Ivan spat back, eyes sharp. “You talk about everyone else, but never yourself. It's always for someone else. Always fixing somebody _else's_ problems.” He finished his wine, setting the empty glass on the bar counter. He walked around to Mitchell's back, prowling like a large cat. “Seems without your friends, you've got a lack of drive. And that's what's driving you insane, isn't it?”

The same sentiment George had expressed to him the day before stung deep with insult. With a shaking inhale preceding, Mitchell chucked the remaining wine into Ivan's face, then took a swing. Ivan hadn't flinched at the red splattering across his shirt, and grabbed the hand hurled toward him to twist Mitchell into a tight hold with his arm behind his back. He strained the arm with a tug. Mitchell growled the pain through his teeth. “There it is again! The urge to pick a fight. I think the only reason you keep doing it is to try and get some variety between the banality.”

Held there for a moment, Mitchell didn't struggle to get free. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nostrils, lips twinging with contained rage. Ivan had always maintained the ability to read him like a book.

Mitchell swallowed to relax his tensed throat. Ivan noticed the movement of his adam's apple, staring at it like an alluring snack. “Like you just want to feel something again.” His free hand moved to run its fingers against the soft flesh of his exposed side, just below his ribs. Mitchell drew in a sharp breath at the tingling sensation spreading over his lower back. “Feel someone against your skin.” He leaned in closer, his lips just an inch from the nape of Mitchell's neck. “Feel someone inside you. Is that what you want?” Ivan let go of his arm. Mitchell didn't step away, trembling at the continued touch to his skin. The hand trailed from the back to the front, slipping under his shirt and kneading his breast.

“Ivan...” he said, voice quieted by the intimate distraction.

Ivan took in the scent of his hair, pressing his face into the curls. “How long as it been?” he asked in an exhale. “Seventy years? _Eighty?_ ”

Nearly so. “... Seventy-six.”

Ivan was enthused by the clear recollection. His other hand reached around to grasp onto Mitchell's inner thigh, squeezing as it moved upward to his groin. “You were so new to this world, back then. Everything was fresh.” Mitchell put his hand on top of Ivan's against his chest, over the shirt. He closed his eyes with hitching breaths. “With Herrick gone, you don't have to worry. He won't hear about it again.” He was right. He couldn't knock him around for 'depravity' if he was dead. “Why don't you just...” He felt Ivan's hand pressing against his member. “Let go? I can feel that part of you, just _begging_ for release...”

Swiftly, he grabbed Ivan's hand by the wrist and locked fierce eyes with him. Not breaking the gaze, he guided the hand up above his belt, then under his pants, biting his bottom lip as he did. Ivan's smirk faded, replaced by an expression of near-feral carnal desire. Without another word said, it began.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, while Ivan's touching became more vigorous. Mitchell stripped himself of his jacket and button up, blindly tossing them out of the way. The elder vampire turned him around, holding his head with one hand to kiss the edge of his mouth and jaw. The other hand grabbed onto his ass with a possessive grip. With their bodies pressed together, Mitchell could feel the arousal in Ivan's slacks. He eagerly undid Ivan's belt and fly, sliding his palms to hold onto his hips. He wasn't wearing underwear. With growing energy, their breathing became heavy between the kisses. The one-sided undressing became a chaotic battle of who could get to what first. Mitchell kicked his boots off and heard them knock hard against the wall.

Finally getting his hands on Ivan's cock, he felt how hard it was already. He ran his fingers along it and licked his lips. Ivan put his palms against Mitchell's shoulders and pressed to guide him down onto his knees. Mitchell was more than willing to. It had been decades since he got to enjoy putting his mouth on another man, but he hadn't lost his touch. At least, the rapid growth and moaning from Ivan seemed to say so. The hands on his shoulders gripped his shirt tightly as he continued to work the frenulum with his tongue and roof of his mouth. Then, with animalistic ferocity, Ivan tore the shirt open in the back. He placed one hand against the back of Mitchell's neck, thrusting deeper into his throat. His other hand's fingers dug their nails into the skin of his shoulder blade, dragging upward.

He got just a little taste of precum at the back of his tongue before Ivan pulled him off. He gasped in some air before Ivan pulled the torn shirt off of him. He took Mitchell by the sides to lift him up and shove him back onto the hotel bed. With a level of speed and intent that could only be brought on by the urge to fuck or the urge to kill, he unbuckled Mitchell's belt and yanked his pants and boxers down around his ankles. Mitchell did the rest with his feet. The clothes dropped to the floor with a thud. Now stripped of all his clothes, Ivan looked him up and down like a piece of art he hadn't been able to see for a lifetime.

Mitchell spread his legs, bracing his feet up against the edge of the mattress. Invited, Ivan primed himself by spreading his already shed ejaculate over his shaft, then came up to the edge of the bed. He held Mitchell in place by his thighs and pressed into him. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time, and the tightness took a slow approach to handle right. Luckily, Ivan was experienced with tight spaces. Mitchell bit down hard on his lip, uttering a groan of strained pleasure.

“Good man...” Ivan said through a pant. He thrust himself deeper and leaned over the other vampire. Mitchell grabbed onto his forearm with a tight grip, feeling the strength of his movement inside. It hit a spot that for years had been ignored by modern, repressed encounters with women. Ivan could tell just how much he wanted it, and reveled in the power of being the one to provide it. “More...?”

“More...” Mitchell heaved. And so he got what he wanted. The thrusts became more intense, with a solid rhythm rocking him against the bed. The force of the thrusts made the sturdy furniture creak. Ivan leaned back to get a full view of how he made Mitchell's muscles flex and spasm with euphoric stimulation. He could see in the older vampire's eyes that he hadn't gotten to feel this in a while, either, and he was taking his time to savor it.

Restraint only lasted so long before lust overtook it. The pressure began to mount with increasing speed. A flurry of tingling energy spread across his abdomen, but before it could erupt from him, Mitchell felt Ivan take a tight hold of the base of his shaft to stop it. He took a deep breath in and threw his head back. “No, no... Not yet...” he heard Ivan command calmly. “Too easy...”

Ivan pulled out and stepped back to complete the tease. His legs shuddering in anticipation, Mitchell shut his eyes tight and whined. He was left to linger in that limbo until it just began to fade away. The instant Ivan saw the trembling beginning to subside, he took Mitchell by the ankle, flipped him onto his stomach, and pulled him half-way off the bed. He held onto the younger vampire's hips and forced himself back in. Mitchell's knuckles went white as he held the blanket tight in his fingers.

Ivan resumed the pace he had started with before, once again beginning to work himself up. Mitchell was utterly in his throws, being rammed against the edge of the mattress with increased power. His panting became tinged with grunts and moans, which mixed with Ivan's own sounds of ravaging ecstasy. He grabbed onto Mitchell's black curls, pulling his head back. The mixture of pain and arousal sent him into a flutter of adrenal response. It only made everything feel that much more extreme.

As they both began to near climax, Ivan pressed his chest to Mitchell's back and increased his speed. The natural urge to feed began to swell within him, brought on by the passion and viciousness of their sex. He pressed it back down by clenching his jaw tight, though his growling still escaped through. He had spent months training himself to resist the urge as a habit. Ivan had not. He sank his fangs into Mitchell's neck, immediately drawing blood which dripped onto the bed. “Ah!!” Mitchell gasped with the shock and pain of the bite. It hurt in the most beautiful way, with both of them in the wave of sexual bliss.

A chill overtook his body as his blood was drained. Both their eyes became black voids as their vampiric power ebbed through. The thrusting rhythm became erratic with the incoming climax, and then came a cold eruption in his gut. Immediately after, his toes curled up tight, and he released his own stream out onto the floor. The teeth released his flesh, and he fell flat onto the bed, desperately trying to catch his breath. Ivan stayed inside him for a little while longer to enjoy the last waves of orgasm, and the uncontrollable spasms it left Mitchell with.

He took the torn shirt from the edge of the bed and held it with pressure against the wound he'd inflicted. “You tasted so good... I was about ready to drink you entirely...”

“Glad... you didn't...” Mitchell sighed out. He gave one last little moan when Ivan pulled out, and stayed laying across the foot of the bed in elated exhaustion until his senses returned to him. He put his hand where Ivan's had been to hold the shirt in place.

Ivan helped him to get up fully onto the bed, resting him on his side. “You should feed.”

“I'll pass...”

With a smirk, Ivan licked the remaining blood off his lips. “Suit yourself.” He walked to the bathroom. He was in there for a few minutes, leaving Mitchell to lay on the bed in a mix of woozy exsanguination and afterglow. After a minute or so, the wound on his neck had stopped bleeding and begun the process of regeneration. When Ivan came back, he was cleaned up and holding a towel in one hand. He tossed it over Mitchell's exposed backside as he passed by on his way to the bar. “For the mess.” He set about pouring himself another glass of wine. While doing so, he used his free hand to pick up a stereo remote and put on some music. It was unmistakably the same music they had listened to in the old days. Gentle, calm, and soothing jazz of the twenties and thirties.

Mitchell already felt sore from the pounding his body had taken, but managed to sit himself up on one hip and wipe himself off. He reached down and grabbed his pants from the floor, digging in the pockets. When he pulled out the empty cigarette tin, he grumbled and snapped it shut in his hand. A cigarette was held out to him by Ivan, who had come to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. After eyeing it, then Ivan's face, he took the cigarette and poised it between his lips. Ivan pulled a lighter from his slacks and lit it for him. “Just like old times, isn't it?” he remarked. “Fucking you while wearing a suit. Getting to look at you naked on my bed afterward.”

“You miss me, or something?” Mitchell took a long drag, releasing the smoke in an Irish waterfall into his nostrils. “Thought Daisy would have kept you plenty of company. Or any other piece of ass you could get your hands on.”

“Oh, yes. They're all fun. But you?” Ivan chuckled and downed his wine. “It's like an exclusive wine cellar I've only gotten to enter twice in a century.”

Mitchell wiped the remaining blood from his wound, which now looked scabbed over. “It would've been open more often if I weren't under the thumb of a bigot.”

“But now you aren't. Does that mean I have a membership?” Mitchell only looked at him over his shoulder with a little smirk. Ivan shared the expression, and when Mitchell took another drag on the cigarette, he leaned around him. “Share.” The two exchanged the puff of smoke through a kiss. Ivan hummed in enjoyment as he sank back against the pillows. Mitchell followed him down, resting his head on Ivan's thigh as he took his time finishing the cigarette. They were able to sit in silence and take in the dulcet tones of music for a time.

To replace the shirt he'd torn, Ivan gave him one of his own to wear home. He even drove him to the corner of his street so he wouldn't have to limp his way across downtown. He still held on to those gentleman's principles after so long.

It was late when he opened the front door to the Windsor Terrace. He assumed Annie was out on a walk, or even up in her room. George and Nina both had early shifts the next day, so they were more than likely in bed by now. Or so he thought.

“Out late?” he heard Nina say from the kitchen table, where she sat with a cigarette in her hand.

He blinked at her, brain catching up to words. “Oh, uh.. Yeah. I was handling some things.” He played it casual and walked to the fridge to grab himself a beer.

She sniffed at the air, and a curious expression crossed her features. “You smell like you've been handling _something_ , for sure.”

He froze awkwardly, then slowly turned to look at her again. “Beg your pardon?”

Nina side-eyed him while flicking ash into the tray. “Well... That's not the shirt you left in, and not really your style, anyway. You've been smoking a different brand of cigarette. And...” She stood up and approached him. He backed up against the fridge. “You smell like sweat and another man's cologne.”

“... What are you going to do?” He gulped, staring at her with a certain level of trepidation she seemed to recognize from personal experience. In her gaze he could see the same old and distant pain that came from a parent's failure to love.

“N-nothing.” It caused a reaction of cryptic regret from her as she stepped back. “I'm sorry... That's something that's gotten you in trouble before, hasn't it?” she asked with a hush to her voice. He didn't say anything, but knew she could tell she was right. “I... I don't care about it. It's just the new senses. They're a lot to get used to.”

He eased down a little at her apology, nodding his head in acceptance of the explanation. “Right... I'm uh... I'm gonna go shower.”

“Yeah. Yeah that would be a good idea.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “You know, before George smells it.”

He looked down at the beer he'd taken out, then handed it over to her. “I'll see you later, then.” She took it with a sheepish nod. He could feel her eyes on his back as he turned the corner. He had to stop for a tick at the top of the stairs, just to calm his mind from the trained-in panic of having been found out. He had to convince himself to believe her. She didn't care. She would keep it hush hush.

And he would shower before he came home, from now on.


End file.
